It Doesn't Affect Me
I typically don't try to write blog posts on anything "controversial." I keep my posts about things that I know everyone reading them will agree with. I don't like to cause problems or be in the middle of any contention.
But lately, I've been feeling like my opinions don't matter. Not only do they not matter, but they are completely invalid. I am "behind the times", and I'd better jump on board with the rest of the world or they'll drag me along behind them.
It's a frustrating feeling when someone puts duct tape over your mouth and then yells with a megaphone in your ear.
Or at least that's how it feels every time some quiet, timid voice from the shadows tries to step up and state an opinion different than the one we're allowed to have right now. They are immediately attacked for their beliefs. Just a few weeks ago I saw a girl I went to High School with express her disappointment that gay marriage was now legal in Utah. People came from out of nowhere to attack her, tell her she was hateful and wrong. Other people who weren't even friends with her started writing their own posts about what she had said, and encouraged others to join in "the fight" against her "hate." I, of course, took away from this experience that I better never, ever let it be known that I, too, was disappointed.
Not everyone is an extremist that wishes death upon anyone who disagrees with them, but for me, the worst comment someone can say (and it's always said) is, "What do you care? It doesn't affect you."
Because that's the thing. I'm not supposed to have an opinion because it's not supposed to affect me. I'm not allowed to say anything remotely conservative because the world is becoming increasingly more liberal. But the problem is that it does affect me. If it didn't, I wouldn't have an opinion at all. I wouldn't hear about it day in and day out. I wouldn't be worried about how these changes, especially the control we're handing over to the government, are going to affect my life ten or twenty years from now. And just because my opinions are different doesn't mean they are hateful, and certainly doesn't mean they shouldn't be heard.
It's hard to see, because the liberal voices today are so loud. They shout from the rooftops, they take over the media, they come at us from every corner and slowly, the conservative voices are getting softer and softer. It's working. If we all feel like we're alone, we'll stop fighting completely.
It came time to either speak up, or lock myself in my house and never use the internet or watch TV again. The other day my Facebook news feed was full of articles that made me feel sick. There was one about a new billboard in Times Square advertising porn, their objective being to "normalize" porn, so it's addicted users won't have to feel so different. There was a girl asking how late in her pregnancy she could get an abortion, because it just wouldn't fit into her crazy schedule for a few weeks. There was one, reposted several times, about a girl who waited until her wedding night to have sex, and then "regretted it." (This one was full of words of encouragement for any girl considering not waiting... don't worry! You're not missing out on anything! Do whatever you want!)
After two minutes scrolling through Facebook, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. All I could think was, man, I thought the world was bad when I was in school. What kind of world are my children going to grow up in?
It isn't gay marriage or any one problem in society that has made our world what it is, but it is our reaction to it that makes all the difference. We are all pitted against each other, and we get our opinions on important topics like gay marriage and abortion from posts our friends shared on Facebook. We give up our own morals and values for what we are told to think. The same ideas are drilled into us over and over until, exhausted, we start to give in.
My point is, yes, I am one of those "behind-the-times" people who doesn't think gay marriage should be legalized, no matter what everyone else is telling me. I believe it is an extremely difficult trial, but one they should fight. I believe that because I've seen the other side, I know what they're missing out on. I know that a man and a woman are made to be together, are given specific traits to help each other, and that marriage is the greatest blessing we will ever have. I disagree with gay marriage not because I hate anyone, but because I want them to have a chance at what I've found. I want everyone in the world to have this.
I think it's important for me to say, not because I want to yell from the rooftops too, but because I'm tired of not feeling heard. I'm tired of being told what to think and believe. I was raised to go find out what I believe for myself. I hope that, as my children grow up in a world that is likely going to be exponentially more wicked than the one we're living in now, they will learn to research what they believe and why, they will question anything that is told to them, and they will stand up for what they believe in. I joined the LDS church because I believed it so strongly, and I don't take a stand on anything until I believe in it strongly too. I also believe we should respect each other because of our differences, and realize that we are all human.
I don't expect this post to change anyone's opinions. But I hope it will give a voice, albeit a small one, to those of us who have been told to sit down and keep quiet.
But lately, I've been feeling like my opinions don't matter. Not only do they not matter, but they are completely invalid. I am "behind the times", and I'd better jump on board with the rest of the world or they'll drag me along behind them.
It's a frustrating feeling when someone puts duct tape over your mouth and then yells with a megaphone in your ear.
Or at least that's how it feels every time some quiet, timid voice from the shadows tries to step up and state an opinion different than the one we're allowed to have right now. They are immediately attacked for their beliefs. Just a few weeks ago I saw a girl I went to High School with express her disappointment that gay marriage was now legal in Utah. People came from out of nowhere to attack her, tell her she was hateful and wrong. Other people who weren't even friends with her started writing their own posts about what she had said, and encouraged others to join in "the fight" against her "hate." I, of course, took away from this experience that I better never, ever let it be known that I, too, was disappointed.
Not everyone is an extremist that wishes death upon anyone who disagrees with them, but for me, the worst comment someone can say (and it's always said) is, "What do you care? It doesn't affect you."
Because that's the thing. I'm not supposed to have an opinion because it's not supposed to affect me. I'm not allowed to say anything remotely conservative because the world is becoming increasingly more liberal. But the problem is that it does affect me. If it didn't, I wouldn't have an opinion at all. I wouldn't hear about it day in and day out. I wouldn't be worried about how these changes, especially the control we're handing over to the government, are going to affect my life ten or twenty years from now. And just because my opinions are different doesn't mean they are hateful, and certainly doesn't mean they shouldn't be heard.
It's hard to see, because the liberal voices today are so loud. They shout from the rooftops, they take over the media, they come at us from every corner and slowly, the conservative voices are getting softer and softer. It's working. If we all feel like we're alone, we'll stop fighting completely.
It came time to either speak up, or lock myself in my house and never use the internet or watch TV again. The other day my Facebook news feed was full of articles that made me feel sick. There was one about a new billboard in Times Square advertising porn, their objective being to "normalize" porn, so it's addicted users won't have to feel so different. There was a girl asking how late in her pregnancy she could get an abortion, because it just wouldn't fit into her crazy schedule for a few weeks. There was one, reposted several times, about a girl who waited until her wedding night to have sex, and then "regretted it." (This one was full of words of encouragement for any girl considering not waiting... don't worry! You're not missing out on anything! Do whatever you want!)
After two minutes scrolling through Facebook, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. All I could think was, man, I thought the world was bad when I was in school. What kind of world are my children going to grow up in?
It isn't gay marriage or any one problem in society that has made our world what it is, but it is our reaction to it that makes all the difference. We are all pitted against each other, and we get our opinions on important topics like gay marriage and abortion from posts our friends shared on Facebook. We give up our own morals and values for what we are told to think. The same ideas are drilled into us over and over until, exhausted, we start to give in.
My point is, yes, I am one of those "behind-the-times" people who doesn't think gay marriage should be legalized, no matter what everyone else is telling me. I believe it is an extremely difficult trial, but one they should fight. I believe that because I've seen the other side, I know what they're missing out on. I know that a man and a woman are made to be together, are given specific traits to help each other, and that marriage is the greatest blessing we will ever have. I disagree with gay marriage not because I hate anyone, but because I want them to have a chance at what I've found. I want everyone in the world to have this.
I think it's important for me to say, not because I want to yell from the rooftops too, but because I'm tired of not feeling heard. I'm tired of being told what to think and believe. I was raised to go find out what I believe for myself. I hope that, as my children grow up in a world that is likely going to be exponentially more wicked than the one we're living in now, they will learn to research what they believe and why, they will question anything that is told to them, and they will stand up for what they believe in. I joined the LDS church because I believed it so strongly, and I don't take a stand on anything until I believe in it strongly too. I also believe we should respect each other because of our differences, and realize that we are all human.
I don't expect this post to change anyone's opinions. But I hope it will give a voice, albeit a small one, to those of us who have been told to sit down and keep quiet.
Friends
Recently, Caleb and I got new callings in the Young Men and Young Womens, respectively.
A few weeks after we got our callings, our ward took a trip to the Ogden temple open house. We drove 3 of the Beehives to Ogden and back. The entire way, all 3 girls laughed and giggled (and told a surprising number of stories about vomiting). But this story isn't really about them, it's about me, and what I realized about myself that night.
As we dropped off the first girl, she made some joke as she got out of the car. As soon as the car door shut, without even realizing it, I braced myself. Here it comes. I thought. These other two girls are going to say something negative about her. To my pleasant surprise, all those cute girls said was, "She is just SO funny!"
I relaxed, but I also felt sick inside. What had made me think that these sweet girls were going to turn on their friend the moment she was out of earshot?
Oh, yeah. Firsthand experience.
I've written before about girl on girl bullying and how we treat each other, but with this post I wanted to say something different. I wanted to say that I'm afraid the way we treat each other is so deeply ingrained in us by now that it's not something that is going to change easily. I wanted to say that clearly we didn't treat each other this way when we were 12, so when did it start? Mostly, I wanted to say that it's our choice of friends that makes all the difference.
On a very different note, when I was going to school at Utah State, we had a lesson in church about pornography. The teacher told us that we shouldn't ask a boy if he's ever had any experience with porn, but to what extent. Implying that any and every boy has or has had a problem with porn at some point. I was devastated. What a shame! It certainly wasn't something I wanted to deal with for the rest of my life, always worrying about my husband.
I mentioned it to Caleb at some point when we were engaged, and he got very offended. It hit me how unfair it is for us to generalize about anything. That being said, I think I've insinuated way too often that girls are just going to be mean because they're girls. This isn't true. There are girls out there who will be great friends to you. The key is, you have to be a good friend, too.
I love this skit from Family Guy, because it's how I've always felt, and I think most women can relate.
Still, it was a rude awakening to realize that I actually expect a group of girls of any age to say something negative about each other the minute one leaves. But in my experience, that's how it often was. There were certain friends that if I was the first to leave the group for the night, I would be sick with anxiety about what they were saying about me. Why didn't I think there was something wrong with that? Why, when a boyfriend treats us badly, do we say we deserve better, but not when our friends do the same? It wasn't just paranoia that made me feel this way, it was solid truth: I knew, because if I was the last to leave, I would take turns saying something about the other people who left. Anything was fair game. "Interesting shoe choice she had tonight." "That was stupid what she said about her dad." "I know I said I agreed with her, but I can't believe she did that."
Occasionally, I'd hear things that were said about me, and they were rarely anything with any substance to get upset over. But the problem was that we had no trust between us, and we all knew it. I felt like I spent half my time defending myself or trying to make myself look better and get people on my team, and the other half of my time knocking someone else down.
It was exhausting, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't friendship.
Growing up, I was always fairly shy, at least at first. But the last couple years, it's like shy, quiet Anndee has turned into this evil monster who demands respect.
And you know what? I kinda like it.
At first, I was upset about the number of friends who wrote me off after I got married. But, slowly, the real friends started to show themselves more. I feel I can safely say which friends I can go to with problems, and which friends I trust. Five years ago, no way.
I don't like change, and it took me a long time to be able to move on, to accept that some people just simply aren't meant to stay in our lives. There were a lot of hurt feelings, a lot of unreturned texts, and a lot of angry rants to my husband, but then it finally dawned on me how lucky I am.
Five and a half years later, and I think High School is finally over!
The other night, I was the first to leave a party with a bunch of my closest friends. It didn't occur to me until later that night that I never had that familiar, crippling anxiety when I left. These friends I have now are friends I trust, friends I can count on. I no longer need an endless list of empty friendships to keep in my phone in case I'm having a lonely Saturday night. I am finally secure enough, finally old enough, to be content with the friendships I have, and to let go of the ones that were poisonous.
It takes time, but not all girls will make you feel this way. You have to search, sometimes, but it's worth it the first time you realize you are finally completely comfortable with the people you choose to, want to, surround yourself with.
A few weeks after we got our callings, our ward took a trip to the Ogden temple open house. We drove 3 of the Beehives to Ogden and back. The entire way, all 3 girls laughed and giggled (and told a surprising number of stories about vomiting). But this story isn't really about them, it's about me, and what I realized about myself that night.
As we dropped off the first girl, she made some joke as she got out of the car. As soon as the car door shut, without even realizing it, I braced myself. Here it comes. I thought. These other two girls are going to say something negative about her. To my pleasant surprise, all those cute girls said was, "She is just SO funny!"
I relaxed, but I also felt sick inside. What had made me think that these sweet girls were going to turn on their friend the moment she was out of earshot?
Oh, yeah. Firsthand experience.
I've written before about girl on girl bullying and how we treat each other, but with this post I wanted to say something different. I wanted to say that I'm afraid the way we treat each other is so deeply ingrained in us by now that it's not something that is going to change easily. I wanted to say that clearly we didn't treat each other this way when we were 12, so when did it start? Mostly, I wanted to say that it's our choice of friends that makes all the difference.
On a very different note, when I was going to school at Utah State, we had a lesson in church about pornography. The teacher told us that we shouldn't ask a boy if he's ever had any experience with porn, but to what extent. Implying that any and every boy has or has had a problem with porn at some point. I was devastated. What a shame! It certainly wasn't something I wanted to deal with for the rest of my life, always worrying about my husband.
I mentioned it to Caleb at some point when we were engaged, and he got very offended. It hit me how unfair it is for us to generalize about anything. That being said, I think I've insinuated way too often that girls are just going to be mean because they're girls. This isn't true. There are girls out there who will be great friends to you. The key is, you have to be a good friend, too.
I love this skit from Family Guy, because it's how I've always felt, and I think most women can relate.
(here is the link in case the video won't play Family Guy Video)
Occasionally, I'd hear things that were said about me, and they were rarely anything with any substance to get upset over. But the problem was that we had no trust between us, and we all knew it. I felt like I spent half my time defending myself or trying to make myself look better and get people on my team, and the other half of my time knocking someone else down.
It was exhausting, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't friendship.
Growing up, I was always fairly shy, at least at first. But the last couple years, it's like shy, quiet Anndee has turned into this evil monster who demands respect.
And you know what? I kinda like it.
At first, I was upset about the number of friends who wrote me off after I got married. But, slowly, the real friends started to show themselves more. I feel I can safely say which friends I can go to with problems, and which friends I trust. Five years ago, no way.
I don't like change, and it took me a long time to be able to move on, to accept that some people just simply aren't meant to stay in our lives. There were a lot of hurt feelings, a lot of unreturned texts, and a lot of angry rants to my husband, but then it finally dawned on me how lucky I am.
Five and a half years later, and I think High School is finally over!
The other night, I was the first to leave a party with a bunch of my closest friends. It didn't occur to me until later that night that I never had that familiar, crippling anxiety when I left. These friends I have now are friends I trust, friends I can count on. I no longer need an endless list of empty friendships to keep in my phone in case I'm having a lonely Saturday night. I am finally secure enough, finally old enough, to be content with the friendships I have, and to let go of the ones that were poisonous.
It takes time, but not all girls will make you feel this way. You have to search, sometimes, but it's worth it the first time you realize you are finally completely comfortable with the people you choose to, want to, surround yourself with.
The Trouble with Beauty
But there's something missing from beauty, something that we refuse to acknowledge, and it is this simple truth: Beauty is hollow. It truly is only skin deep. We can recite that mantra every day of our lives without ever truly believing it. We can tell ourselves that sure, beauty may not be the most important thing, but it would sure be great if I could lose 10 pounds, or if my nose wasn't so big, or if...(fill in the blank.)
The other day I was working on my novel and I found a great printout that was supposed to help flesh out my characters. I sat down with several pages of questions to answer about my main character. Some were simple, others really made me think. One question said to list what was beautiful about my character. That was easy! She was fiction, and seeing as she is my main character, I of course put a little of myself into her. In a way, it is like creating a more perfect version of myself. This Anndee, going of course by another name, was radiant. She stopped people dead in their tracks. I think I actually wrote the words, "her beauty got a lot of second glances" or some other nonsense.
Then I got to the hard question, which read, "What is ugly about your character?" The writer of the worksheet had listed a few examples to give you ideas... are her ears too big? Is she freakishly tall? Does she have buck teeth?
Although I had sped through the worksheet up until this point, I was suddenly stumped. It wasn't that I couldn't come up with unattractive characteristics, it was just that I didn't want my beautiful, radiant, head-turning character to have any unattractive qualities. To give her an imperfection made her just that: imperfect. Every time I would finally concede, "Ok, she can have big ears." I would immediately erase it. She can't have big ears! She has to be beautiful. After I moved on from Denial I started Bargaining... maybe she can just have an ugly flaw, the kind of shortcoming we brag about at job interviews. She's just too organized, it really gets in the way of her work sometimes. (No stealing, that one is mine.)
After at least ten minutes of wrestling with this, it finally hit me: I was doing this character a great disservice by making her beautiful. I had so easily come up with beautiful traits for her that column was filled to the brim. But as far as I could see this character, beauty is all that she was. She was the kind of character that directors love in their movies because you'll be so distracted by their beauty that you hopefully won't notice the horrible script. ("You can't hide in the band room anymore. I see you." Actual quote from a really stupid movie that Caleb and I wasted an entire evening on just this week. I won't ruin the surprise, let's see if you can find it yourself.)
Lest you think this is only a problem in literature, let me assure you that I've thought about this a lot lately, and it is a real life problem as well. I started thinking about the people that I'd most like to look like. The girls who always seemed to get all the attention, the ones who quickly learned to manipulate boys affections, how to bat their eyelashes to get their way. I thought about all the times I was jealous when a boy asked for my friends number and ignored me like I wasn't even there. I thought about the girls who seemed to have everything in life handed to them on a silver platter simply because they were born with particularly good genes.
What's more, is most of those girls are still the same today as they were in High School. They still date around, never wanting to settle down for the affections of one man for the rest of their life because they are so used to getting attention from a wide selection of boys. It finally, finally, hit me that I have nothing to be jealous of. I found a husband who fell in love with me for my sense of humor, our shared interests, and even the fact that I'm a writer. I found a husband who looks bored when I show him new clothes I bought, but who lights up when we talk about how far I've come on my book, or our future together.
After years of looking in the mirror and being disappointed in myself, I was finally justified in my disappointment... not because of my looks, but because of my attitude. Because as much as I'd like to walk out the door every day and turn heads, I finally realized that doesn't really matter. All my life it's been thrown at me from every angle that my beauty is my only important quality. For every time I felt inferior to someone else because of my looks, I am now so grateful that I never let it define me. I am grateful that I used those times to focus on my strengths, my interests, the things that really do matter. The things that make a person attractive, not just pretty.
Just the WORST
I like to think that I have really grown.
I've matured. I'm smarter. I'm stronger than I used to be.
But I'm still learning things about myself every day. Today I learned that I still scream bloody murder whenever I see a spider.
Ok, let's just get one thing clear. I'm not talking about those tiny little guys. I'm talking about the spider overlords. The spiders that haunt your nightmares. The mythical spiders from Harry Potter that, apparently, live in my basement.
I know that it's my own fault. When I was little, I used to put my dresser corner-wise so I could throw everything behind there. When it filled up, I'd just rearrange my room and start the junk corner in a new spot. Now that I have my own house, and especially since I'm married to a fellow hoarder, we have an entire junk basement. Today I decided I was tired of tripping over that mess of a basement, so I bought some storage totes and went work.
Now, two hours later, the totes are still sitting here empty. The basement looks even worse than before, because I found so many spiders.
The silver lining? Turns out early August must be a good time to do something like this, because most of the spiders are dead. But don't misunderstand. When I say most, I mean most of the spiders in the world are dead, in my basement, right this moment.
More specifically, in my vacuum. Along with a couple of live ones. (Side note: Does vacuuming up a spider kill it? Or does it live through the tornado and crawl out and come find you to plot it's revenge? These are the things I worry about.)
I don't want to give anyone else nightmares, but since that's all I'm going to be having tonight: I am not exaggerating when I say I bet I saw over 500 spiders in my tiny little basement tonight.
And I didn't take it like man. I screamed so loud and so much that I was starting to worry the neighbors would call the cops. (And actually, I'm a little offended that they didn't. Are they really not concerned that I sounded like I was being murdered?) I screamed so much that my throat really hurts.
And there are more.
One of them got away from me, and he knows where I sleep.
I like to think I've grown up. That I'm a tough girl who can hold her own.
But I don't know. I am sitting on my feet right now, just in case any followed me upstairs. This feels an awful lot like I'm five again.
I've matured. I'm smarter. I'm stronger than I used to be.
But I'm still learning things about myself every day. Today I learned that I still scream bloody murder whenever I see a spider.
Ok, let's just get one thing clear. I'm not talking about those tiny little guys. I'm talking about the spider overlords. The spiders that haunt your nightmares. The mythical spiders from Harry Potter that, apparently, live in my basement.
I know that it's my own fault. When I was little, I used to put my dresser corner-wise so I could throw everything behind there. When it filled up, I'd just rearrange my room and start the junk corner in a new spot. Now that I have my own house, and especially since I'm married to a fellow hoarder, we have an entire junk basement. Today I decided I was tired of tripping over that mess of a basement, so I bought some storage totes and went work.
Now, two hours later, the totes are still sitting here empty. The basement looks even worse than before, because I found so many spiders.
The silver lining? Turns out early August must be a good time to do something like this, because most of the spiders are dead. But don't misunderstand. When I say most, I mean most of the spiders in the world are dead, in my basement, right this moment.
More specifically, in my vacuum. Along with a couple of live ones. (Side note: Does vacuuming up a spider kill it? Or does it live through the tornado and crawl out and come find you to plot it's revenge? These are the things I worry about.)
I don't want to give anyone else nightmares, but since that's all I'm going to be having tonight: I am not exaggerating when I say I bet I saw over 500 spiders in my tiny little basement tonight.
And I didn't take it like man. I screamed so loud and so much that I was starting to worry the neighbors would call the cops. (And actually, I'm a little offended that they didn't. Are they really not concerned that I sounded like I was being murdered?) I screamed so much that my throat really hurts.
And there are more.
One of them got away from me, and he knows where I sleep.
I like to think I've grown up. That I'm a tough girl who can hold her own.
But I don't know. I am sitting on my feet right now, just in case any followed me upstairs. This feels an awful lot like I'm five again.
One for the Kids
Twas the night before tomorrow,
when in our front yard
came a shout from my husband,
"Come see this mallard!"
But I in my longjohns,
post-shower, all clean,
had just settled for the night
in front of the computer screen.
"But you must see this!"
said he in a fury,
"They are cute and adorable!
Quick! You must hurry!"
I threw on some clothes,
put my hair in a bow,
And lo! There they were!
All the ducks in a row.
My heart did melt
at the sight of these creatures,
their tiny beaks,
and their feathered features.
The mother bird warned,
"It looks like rain!"
(It was just the sprinkler,
but they DO have tiny brains.)
The freshly cut grass
they thoroughly enjoyed,
strewn about with bugs
they didn't avoid.
Suddenly I was struck
with a brilliant idea.
"Get some bread!" I yelled,
"Or maybe a tortilla?"
They didn't enjoy it
much to my chagrin.
Perhaps it's the carbs,
and they're trying to stay thin?
Through all of the ruckus
we failed to regard
the poor dog in the window,
watching over the yard.
His tail said playful,
but his eyes whispered sin.
Experience has taught us
his belly they'd be in.
As darkness settled,
away they did go.
Happily ever after they lived.
Or...we assume so.
THE END
We kinda love our dog.... too much.
If you're like me, you wait all year for those Summer blockbusters to come out. This year though, I've been a little disappointed with the slim pickins in the theater.
I can't complain unless I'm willing to help solve the problem, right?
So without further ado, I'm pleased to announce...
This video I made about my dog.
It's done, so far, great at the box office.
Enjoy!!!
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